


Heretics

by stardropdream



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He cannot be wild like this land, because there is someone waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heretics

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ November 14, 2010.
> 
> Written with the prompt "you fear blood more and more".

  
He thinks to himself that, no, he cannot stand that smell. He tells himself this so that maybe he won’t do something he regrets—because no matter what, he must maintain control. This is a world that is unpredictable, that is wild and expansive, and he can never hope to understand any one corner of it. He cannot be wild with it, because there is someone waiting below the water’s surface, and no matter what, he must protect him.   
  
But the smell is intoxicating. He fears the scent of blood more and more, because the more and more he smells it, the more and more he wants it.   
  
He can see the way the blood moves, feel the increase of heart rates like a rattling electric drum on the air. It hums in his ears, tempts him closer. Every bend of a leg, every tension in a muscle—he feels it all, and it only makes him hungrier.   
  
And the tower leader’s breath blazes past his ear, and he can feel his heart beat as he pulls away, blocks a kick from Kamui with practiced ease, and the tense and relaxation of his muscles screams the scent of blood.   
  
“Kamui,” he says, quietly, and his words are thick even though he says _nothing at all._   
  
He fears blood more and more, and he fears how more and more he senses every movement the other man makes, and not because he needs to block his punches. Kamui’s eyes slide to half-mast, and Fuuma is still there, smiling, bleeding, breathing, living.


End file.
